Enough politics, let's talk about the weather. Here on the Carolina shore, it's nearly perfect - though the returning humidity is enough to wilt that beach umbrella you schlepped in from the cottage. Speaking of schlep, it won't be long until I'm back under the yoke of my own Sony and sticks, traversing the foothills in search of broadcast flotsam and newscast scraps. Oy. Still, if I stayed on the coast forever I'd turn into one of those leathery, shirtless types you see stumbling through the surf every so often - a frothy fate the women in my life say just ain't gonna happen. Sooo, I'll soon pack my sandy brood into the evil SUV and head uphill, poorer for the expense but richer for the experience. Just don't expect a savage tan, as I'm of Irish descent and covered in fur. Too Much Information I know but it beats watching a middle-aged Sasquatch wallow in the undertow. Now if you'll excuse me, I got nine Coronas I gotta drown. Wife says they won't fit in the car and I'm not about to leave them to the deadbeats who'll soon be lounging in my favorite deck chairs. Now bring me my limes!
Hmm? Yeah, on second thought, I'll get them...
1 comment:
I know the hen and those two biddy's are pretty and tan and you probably look like a redden roster.Monday will be here before you know it and all this will just be a dream. Go ahead now and reserve the place for next year so you'll have something to look forward to. Wise words for the old goat.
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